ZekuRoku: Ice Dance Series
by xxbloodyinsanityxx
Summary: An Edward Scissorhands inspired series. Zexion is Edward Scissorhands. Please visit my profile for my link to my DeviantArt profile for all my fanfictions.


Under the overgrown trellis, Roxas sits on the cracked marble bench under the cascading vines of nightshade. He fingered his left hand through the curly strands on the vines and they wrapped around his finger like a playful snake. His silent feet sway back and forth in the elm leaf pile as he rests his head on the palm of his hand.

The garden is always so vibrant at 4pm. It's like magic sprouts from the ground as the sun trickles its honey-sweet last light. The rays from the golden star in the sky filters through Roxas's feathery blond spikes.

This is still his garden. This were he grew up…playing beneath the hemlock trees in the rose bushes. He always got lost in them and his mother would always scoop him up into her arms and say: _"peek-a-boo, little Roxy."_

Memories still beckoned through the creaking red oak trees…all the memories are still strong, even though his parents both died. He is now left with only himself and his aunt Xenitha. He turned 19 not that long ago but he still leaked tears anytime he hung the white cotton bed sheets on the clothesline.

He remembers how his mother pretended like she didn't see him running around on his little toddler feet through the curtain-like sheets. She plucked off the clothespins from her wore apron pocket and she clipped them swiftly on the bunched up piece of white fabric. Little Roxas hide behind them and jumped out.

_ "Boo!"_ Roxas exclaimed and she playfully jumped back in fear. Roxas would blush and hide his little cherub face in the soft lilac scented sheet as his tiny hands clutched the cloth. His mother would brush his blond hair out of his robin egg blue eyes and she would say: _"Why don't you wait on the porch, I'll get you something to drink." _Roxas always followed his commands and he would end up with coconut shaved ice or fresh blueberry juice in his fragile hands.

His father was out fighting the heartless and he never returned but his mom managed to smile and say: _"I'm just glad to have you. I have you to live for, Roxas."_ At the age of twelve, his mother went off on a train trip to Traverse Town to visit her mother, while aunt Xenitha stayed at the house.

The next morning, Roxas was crying next to the radio as the horrible words spilled out from the new caster's mouth: _'A horrible storm hit five miles south of Traverse Town. What we seem to think it was, is a cyclone. It hit a mobile train and few passengers survived but are expected to dye in a matter of hours."_

As the 19-year-old recalls his past, he finds himself sulking and lying down on the long bench. His face presses against the icy marble as he views the world at a side angle. Everything in the garden is dead…all his memories stay preserved in the hidden green inside the leaves of the flora.

Roxas watches the stillness of the garden and he notices how everything fell utterly silent. He hears some faint snipping from the rose bushes. Roxas sees a black rose head fall to the ground but he does not see what caused it. The curious teen sits up on the hard bench and he stands up on the moist ground. Snip. Snip. Snip.

The blond feels like the curious boy he once was…All the feelings of innocence and exploring come back to him. The clouds disclose dainty snowflakes and the frosted air nips at Roxas's nose.

He steps through the over grown, monstrous bushes and the branches whip at his long sleeves. Roxas gasps as he sees a tall young man dressed in Gothic black clothes and tight belts with chains.

The strange mystery has scissors for hands and he clips off the dead rose heads. Roxas approaches with bewildered eyes through the tunnel of rose bushes. Black rose head hang down from the towering ceiling.

Without breathing, Roxas steps closer with a time slowing speed. The pale white creature does not notice him. The blond marvels over the young man's features…crystal blue eyes with faint violette circles outlining his sleepiness and fresh snowy skin.

Roxas touches the figures shoulder and he whips around in fear. The scissor blade slices a fine gash on Roxas's frail cheek. "Oh!" It exclaims at the sight of blood. "It's okay! It's okay!" Roxas exclaims as he tries to calm him down.

His eyes sting at the foreign sight of the red liquid. He backs away from Roxas and he charges gracefully through the labyrinth of thorns and headless roses. "Wait!" Roxas calls after and he pushes through the scratching beasts of bushes.

The blond's face becomes covered as the thorns claw at his face. He reaches the chain fencing marking the end of his yard. Everything is silent. Roxas looks up and down the street. It is empty and quiet. A neighbor walks out in a thick robe and slippers to check the mail. Another neighbor's daughter is riding her chiming bell bicycle.

Icicles scatter along the frozen bar on the metal fence. Roxas's breath becomes hoarse as the harsh air burns his dry throat. Snowflakes dot his platinum blond hair. The dark rose man was gone. Roxas opens his mouth but he can't manage any words. The blond feels the warm blood stain his face. He is alone.


End file.
